


Love Scripts

by Up_a_Creek



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, One Shot, Prompt Fic, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 13:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17788562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Up_a_Creek/pseuds/Up_a_Creek
Summary: Ryuji spent his life resenting his careless jerk of a soulmate. And then he met him.





	Love Scripts

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! ^___^ I'm having a bit of a struggle with my current WIP, and I thought trying out one of these soulmate prompts I've been seeing around could be fun. It's not very original, but I hope whoever reads this finds some sort of entertainment out of it.

**Prompt:** Soulmate AU where the first words you ever hear from your soulmate are inked onto your skin.

Love Scripts

              Money woes plagued his thoughts that morning like flies picking apart roadkill in the street. Running used to alleviate his concerns, but each day that passed pressed matters tighter against him. Pretty soon he wouldn’t be able to breathe.

              Two years had limped by since Ryuji graduated from his third and final year of high school. Most of his peers, if not all, went on to post-secondary education. Ryuji worked the cash register at a 7-11. Well, the cash register and the microwave. He still lived at home with his mother. Everyone who had ever scoffed and declared him nothing more than a thug who would go nowhere in life was currently right. And it was all because of those damn words scrawling down his calf.

              ‘Love scripts’ is what they were referred to most often in the media. They’d been part of human culture as long as the written word itself. Nobody questioned it anymore. Scientists were stumped. Screenwriters were over the moon with all the dramas they could churn out about them. Every person had a set of words marked somewhere on their body – the first words they would ever hear their soulmate say – and the phrases stayed in their skin until the day they heard them.

              Kids waited with bouncy anticipation as their markings first began to show, becoming less hazy the closer they became to sexual maturity. “Look, look, you can see them!” kids in grade school would say to each other, showing off new marks that looked nothing more than ink smudges. Sometimes they were simply ink stains on a late bloomer who wanted to fit in with rest of the class. Ryuji had been a late bloomer. His love script didn’t begin to show until middle school. And when it became legible, it wrecked him.

              Lungs burning, Ryuji skidded to a stop beneath a sparse patch of shade along the running path. Bending down over his knees, he sucked in air. It felt as if he took in no oxygen in the oppressive heat. “Dammit,” he grumbled out loud once he no longer felt like he was dying. Years ago, he could go twice as far without needing to break. He straightened back up, taking in his surroundings as he did. A late summer heatwave discouraged most people from going out that day, leaving the well-kept park all to himself for the most part. Bright morning sun played off the gentle waters of the lake the park’s main path wrapped around. The small amounts of grass, patches interplayed between gravel and flowerbeds, were neatly trimmed. And the air smelled surprisingly fresh for being in the city. Absently, Ryuji scratched at his bared lower leg, his nails leaving trails everywhere but the skin touched by his love script. He couldn’t wait to get the hell away from home. Just had to figure out a way to save more money.

              Back in his youth, Ryuji had been something of an up-and-coming track star. At least, around the junior high circuits. Sprinting was the only thing he found that he was actually good at, and he practiced without ever skipping a day. Even when sick, he’d still stretch and try to slip in some kind of cardio when his mom wasn’t watching. Track made him happy. His love script drove him to quit.

              Most people were cautious about speaking too loudly when surrounded by strangers. Every unknown ear could potentially belong to their soulmate, and who wanted some nonsensical garbage about a random person’s last meeting at work stuck to their flesh? It was customary to greet every person you were meeting for the first time with a simple, “Hello, my name is…” in order avoid your soulmate having something careless as a mark. It also made it much simpler to identify them. Some people even took to finding their match online and then setting up a meeting, if their full name was provided in the mark. Of course, many love scripts were a simple “Hey” or an overheard coffee order. One girl in his class, a transfer student with hair the color of clean sands you only ever see in pictures of resort beaches, had the words, “You’re so beautiful.” Many of the other girls were quite jealous, and plenty of boys tried greeting her with that line. None succeeded, as far as Ryuji could remember.

              Ryuji would have taken pretty much any words over his own mark. Hell, he would have even been okay being one of those people whose love script never appear. The ones left wondering whether they didn’t have a soulmate or whether they met them before their words even developed. Yes, that would have been much better than the characters that filled his lower leg all the way from his knee to his ankle. “You can call me daddy.”

              It wasn’t so much that his love script was the worst pickup line that Ryuji had ever heard. No, the crushing part came from the fact his being queer could now be easily spotted by anyone he passed when wearing shorts. And guess what sprinters on a track team often wear. Really, it was a chicken and the egg situation. Which came first: the word daddy on his calf or his eyes lingering on some of the better-looking guys he passed on the street?

              The other guys on Ryuji’s team practically chased him out with a broom when his love script became clear enough to read. He’d never checked any of them out, or at least not in the sanctity of the changing room, but they all seemed to have horror stories of him hitting on them. And, being high schoolers, the rest of the school knew what his leg said even though he never wore shorts there again.

              For his father, already a drunken bastard, it was the final blow. Despite specifically explaining in several fights that he was still into chicks too, his father declared having a gay son was too much of a humiliation. He took off. Leaving Ryuji’s mother in the awkward position of having to comfort her child that chased away her spouse. Not that she ever put it that way. Overall, she tried her best not to show disappointment. The façade was slipping little by little every day Ryuji returned home from his part-time job.

              This was why Ryuji needed to get as much cash as he could. His goal was to move out of the country, get to somewhere where his mark would just be a series of foreign characters to the majority of eyes. Then, it wouldn’t matter if he never met the asshole that cursed him with his love script. It could stay there forever as long as nobody could read it. Hell, maybe he could go somewhere cold and then just never wear shorts again.

              Emigrating was hard when you weren’t a student though. High school was a miserable time for Ryuji, and his grades showed it. Getting into college seemed impossible. But, if he had enough money, he could get out and live on the downlow somewhere. Probably. Maybe.

              Again, Ryuji scratched his leg. Now breathing normally, thighs uncomfortably tight, he was simply standing in the middle of the paved path. Taking up space as he stared over the lake and tried to think of countries he could go, blocking out any nagging thoughts about his piss-poor planning. As if mocking him, an itch crawled over his script.

              New technologies for people like Ryuji were being manufactured all the time. There were things you could buy to hide your love script if it was in a visible place. Real high-tech things like sleeves that blended into your natural pigments and silicone skins that were so thin that nobody could tell at a glance that they were fake. And surgery had always been an option. But those were all too rich for his blood. Money would be better spent getting out of there. So, on summer days when it was necessary to wear shorts, Ryuji opted to slathering his lower leg in a thick layer of the cheapest foundation he could find. He’d grabbed the plastic bottle of it that morning before going out, holding it in his hand a moment in his bedroom. Even inside the air-conditioned apartment, he’d begun to sweat. And his leg was feeling itchy. So, he didn’t put it on, hoping he would move fast enough to not allow anyone to read it.

              Now his leg was stinging. Burning. Not bothering to move off to the side of the still empty path, Ryuji bent down to a knee, scratching at his leg. Years of anger filled him as he watched the skin around the words turn hot and red but never the script itself. He scratched harder and harder, even when the initial stinging was far outpowered by the wrath his fingernails brought. He barely even had a chance to look up when he heard the rustling of foliage and dress shoes beating down on the asphalt.

              Bam! The guy came out of nowhere, slamming right into Ryuji. His face took the impact of the running man’s body, knocking him off his knee and onto his ass. Flailing his arms, the other man managed to catch his balance before tumbling down to the ground himself. “What the hell, man!” Ryuji shouted. Still hot from thinking too much on the years of embarrassment, he was glad to have someone other than himself to direct the anger towards. “What are you, an idiot? You gotta watch where you’re going!”

              The man, who looked to be similar in age to Ryuji, didn’t say anything. He didn’t complain that Ryuji had been the one blocking the path – though there had been room to go around – and he most certainly didn’t apologize. He just looked down at him, righting his thick-rimmed glasses that had been knocked askew from the impact. Finally, he stepped forward towards Ryuji, stopping just in front of him and held out a hand. Instead of taking it, Ryuji just glared at the guy.

“You can call me daddy,” the man said, lips barely moving around the mumbled words. The bastard was reading his stupid leg as he bent over him extending a hand. Ryuji was surprised he could even see through the mess of dark curls matting to his sweat-streaked face.

Ryuji made to cover his leg with his hand, something he’d done countless times. He kept his glare on the guy, not looking down when his palm prickled upon touching his calf. “What the hell? Don’t look at that!”

Again, the man didn’t apologize. In fact, he chuckled. “That does sound like something I’d say.”

“Huh?”

              The stranger shook his extended hand for emphasis, finally prompting Ryuji to take it. Though he was built lean, he pulled Ryuji to his feet with no problem. Before saying anything else, Ryuji noticed the wrist of the offered hand. The words, “What the hell, man” glowed in shiny gold on his skin. Ryuji looked down at his leg. The characters he’d always resented so much, the ones that ruined his life, were the same reflecting gold now. His eyes shot back at the stranger who simply stared at him with a smirk. Ryuji had always imagined decking the asshole who caused him so much misery. But now, he simply stood there not even a full step away from him, his forgotten hand still laying in his.

              They didn’t have a chance for introductions. More leaves and branches rustled before several pairs of shoes broke out onto the path. A wild look came over the stranger’s charcoal eyes. He gave Ryuji’s hand a squeeze. “Looks like we’d better get going,” he said. His fingers spread Ryuji’s apart as they filled in the spaces. Though he wasn’t dressed for it, the man began to run, pulling Ryuji along behind him.

              Daring to look back only once, Ryuji saw several uniformed patrolmen chasing after them. He kept up with the stranger, running just a step behind, never tearing his hand away from his grip. All those days of hating the person he hoped he’d never actually meet were now long gone in the rearview mirror. Instead, Ryuji found himself thinking, _“Well, this isn’t so bad.”_

 

 


End file.
